The Crow

The sardonic caw sliced through the silent morning
The crow that knows all, is perched in a perfection of balance, on the tip of the tallest tree.
His motive is to taunt my weakness, my human need.
A bird's eye view into my soul.
Eyeing my heart as a wounded carcass to devour whole.
Fly to a parking lot and leave me alone.
But the crow continues to caw from his elevated throne.
With a sordid desire to be known.